


Victory in Europe

by inslupbanana



Series: Ghosts oneshots/drabbles [1]
Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Captain Appreciation, Family Feels, Gen, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inslupbanana/pseuds/inslupbanana
Summary: The 75th VE Day in Button House(With accidental undertones of Captain/Pat)
Relationships: Alison/Mike (Ghosts TV 2019), The Captain/Pat (Ghosts TV 2019)
Series: Ghosts oneshots/drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754620
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	Victory in Europe

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for uh coronavirus lockdown? and like references to death? Inaccurate history bc I do ancient history, not this shiz.  
> \- Before you read this is (mostly) done but I rushed it and sort of hate it bc I have an essay to do so I'll go back and reformat it soon if you maybe want to put it aside till then! :)  
> Because every fandom needs its good old angst fics and I watched the VE day sing-along and had some *feels* .  
> 

_And still they come and go: and this is all I know –_

_That from the gloom I watch an endless picture-show_

_Where wild or listless faces flicker on their way,_

_With glad or grievous hearts I’ll never understand_

_Because Time spins so fast, and they’ve no time to stay_

_Beyond the moment's gesture of a lifted hand._

-Siegried Sassoon, Picture-Show

* * *

It's a warm summers day in May 2020, bees are buzzing, flowers are blooming and Alison Cooper has never been more thankful to be the owner of Button House.

When they first claimed the house over a year ago it had been an impossible dream that slowly warped into a nightmare, with their subsequent money issues and the revelation that their property was genuinely haunted. They'd struggled a lot at first with living alongside these unavoidable residents, as they sunk further and further into debt and the stubborn ghosts rebutted any chance they had of changing things.

In the end, change hadn't been a miraculous recovery but they'd found a solicitor who'd been willing to refute the interest on their original loans, the shaky grounds of Alison's 'accident' and the unforeseen discovery of a plague pit beneath their house allowing them leniency.

This find, despite the Captain's scheming, had worked out better than they'd anticipated as the identification of the plague victims had turned the cellar into a full-scale archaeological dig, thus bringing with it a good amount of money, from both the government and the odd history nerd willing to pay in food or a few pints to take a look. 

As a result, the last few months had been getting better and better for Alison and Mike, as they learned to live among the ghosts. They were also both out and working enabling them to build up some emergency savings and live relatively comfortably as they continued renovations in their free time.

Of course, good things never last too long and come March the ongoing pandemic of Covid-19 swept across a terrified UK, forcing both Mike and Alison into lockdown at the house. Fortunately for them, they were in a much better position by then than they would've been if put into the same position the year before.

Everything had been scary at first with their normal routine turned completely on its head, but Alison was still entitled to 80% of her income and with their savings they figured it wasn't worth Mike going into work and had decided to stay at home and ride it out, taking the extra time to do as much about the house as they could.

April had gone disturbingly quickly as they'd settled into their new routine of endless cleaning and manual labour while, unlike many others around the country, they weren't left wanting for company with a full horde of ghosts to talk to. This was one of the reasons that by May, Alison's appreciation for the house and its residents had grown exponentially.

The ghosts had been stuck in the house for hundreds, if not thousands, of years and against all odds had continued onward and retained their sanity in a seemingly endless existence. So, for Alison, they became the easiest people to talk to in the weeks quarantined at home as she joined in their group activities and put as much effort as possible into finding them all things to pass the time, finally appreciating what it must be like to be stuck in the same place for so long.

Their frequent telly-watching was broken up by a healthy number of walks around the house's lovely land and gardens which included Alison learning more than she ever thought she could about flowers from Kitty.

Meanwhile, Pat had taken to excitedly teaching her basic scouting skills at every opportune moment, Fanny had been attempting to give her lessons akin to those of an old-fashioned ladies finishing school, and even Julian's icky political anecdotes were more than welcome to overcome the increasing boredom.

Which is how we come to this particular summer day, May Day, in fact, though due to their absence of daily schedule it had taken Alison until the afternoon to remember. 

It was eleven o'clock (a little before their daily 'lunch break') and she was taking a camping stool out to the lake so she could sit and relax a bit in the sunshine and have a quick scroll through Reddit. However, she'd only made it halfway there before something moved slightly in her peripheral vision, stopping her in her tracks as she turned and spotted the Captain lifting his head up.

He was stood in the centre of the grassy knoll she'd been aiming for with his boots ever-so-slightly touching the gently lapping water. Alison dithered for a few seconds, watching his shoulders come up and his arms clasp firmly behind his back as he stared out onto the shimmering lake.

On any other day, she would simply have gone down and sat down next to him - he was never usually one to turn down a friendly chat. Something stopped her this time though and as she stood there, taking in the tense lines of his back with the tall grass swaying in the breeze around them, the short hairs began to rise on the back of her neck and some base instinct screamed for her to turn tail and run.

So Alison does, swiftly and at a brisk trot - to maintain some semblance of dignity. It has been many months since the concept of visible spirits of the undead has freaked her out so much but there was something truly ethereal about the Captain standing alone amongst the reeds. 

As she makes her way back to the house quickly, planning on sitting in the kitchen with Mary instead, there is a nagging feeling that she'd forgotten something about today in the corner of her mind. She doesn't remember what this is until she's walked back through the main door and spotted the magazine discarded on the floor, date helpfully printed in the upper corner.

Oh. It's VE Day. 

Even with everything that's going on right now Alison can't help but feel ashamed to have forgotten something so undoubtedly important to one of the people she has recently come to call a friend. Even worse, she'd nearly stomped right through the Captain's two minutes of silence.

She sets the stool by the door and makes her way over to the dining table with her packed lunch, determined to think of something to do to help while she is eating.

\-----

A few hours later, Alison has had a bloody good sandwich, replaced half the doorframes on the second floor and still thought of absolutely nothing even slightly relevant to the Captain's melancholy. Accepting defeat, she goes to hunt down Pat, the ghost most likely to be sympathetic to her predicament.

With some luck, she finds him relatively fast, as he's circling the car on their gravelled driveway and sticking his head through the metal at random intervals. "Hey, Pat!" She shouts, walking down the steps towards him.

True to form his face lights up as soon as he sees her, "Alison, hello!" he waves excitedly and stops moving by the car boot, waiting for her to approach.

"Hiya, " She moves to run her hand along the passenger side door, "Inspecting the goods?"

Pat chuckles nervously, "Sorry it's a bit rude to just be looking isn't it but they were, er, showing re-runs of that car show when you left the telly on and I thought, well I've got nothing better to do-"

"Not it's fine!" Alison smiles, "Just a question," she hesitates, opening and closing her mouth.

"For me?" he asks.

"Yeah, well, it's about the Captain..." she trails off, unwilling to put her baseless fear into words.

"Oh" Pat turns toward the lake, even though it's nowhere in their line of sight, "Yes, it's the 75th today isn't it if I've got my years right."

Alison does her best not to let her shock show, "Somehow I hadn't even thought of that," she pauses, "Is that why he's so...", again she struggles.

Luckily, Pat seems to know what she's trying to say and simply nods, eyes clouding over briefly before he continues, "Maybe, I think he might be missing the celebrations as well. He's always like this around now but," he shrugs, "at least when there are people around it gives him something else to focus on."

"What?" Alison rubs the back of her phone in her trouser pocket, "How often are there parties around here?"

"Oh, as long as I've been dead, the old Lady Button hosted the local school on these grounds every year. We always did them when I was alive as well you know, the whole street festival thing with all the proper bunting for VE day and all that." 

God, it'd been a long time since Alison had thought about stuff like that, she'd been to a few of the village street parties as a little girl when her family lived in an older neighbourhood, but around flats and the like, the atmosphere was completely different.

She knows this isn't the sort of issue that would've had a big fix anyway but she can't help but feel disappointed that there isn't anything she can do, there's no way to throw a party in the middle of a pandemic. Unless... "Pat?"

The ghost looks rightfully wary at her tone, "Yes?"

"They're probably making a big thing of VE Day on the telly with shows at certain times and all that, do you think it'd be possible for us to have some sort of mini celebration during that?" 

"Er-" he's cut off as Alison continues her train of thought,

"I just mean," she gets her phone out of her pocket, "It obviously won't be as good as having all the children round with proper decorations and whatnot, but there's a chance it'd cheer him up a little, right?"

Pat adjusts his glasses, "Well, er, I," he's getting more worked up, hovering his hands in front of his chest as if to physically push the question away, "to be honest, I don't really know if it'd cheer him up per se, but it might, you know-"

"Distract him?" Alison finishes, daring to get her hopes up.

"Probably." He nods rapidly

She smiles, "Good, I've just looked it up," she steps forward, turning her phone screen to face him, "There's stuff on from about 7pm that might be interesting, I'll go grab Mike and get him to help me set stuff up and you see if you can gather the rest in the banquetingbbanqueting hall about half six, yeah?"

Pat nods and takes a few steps towards the house, "Sorry, wait," he stops and turns back, "So what am I telling them?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest," Alison shrugs, "It's not really going to be a party, we'll just get a few decorations and maybe some music and put the telly on a bit."

"Hmm," he tugs on his woggle, "I'll just tell them it's for the Captain." 

She smiles softly, "Yeah Pat, that works." 

He nods and continues back to the house, leaving Alison standing out on the drive by herself for a few seconds as she tries to get her thoughts in order; she's got a lot to plan now and only about three hours to do it in.

\-----

It's about twenty to seven and Alison is stood in the centre of the newly decorated banqueting hall, hands on her hips as she turns in a circle to take in the full extent of their work. Fortunately, they'd patched the room up quite a bit the last few weeks anyway, with all their extra time, and so she and Mike had managed to focus mostly on decorating today - just about succeeding in completing that task before anyone started arriving.

The whole area is much cleaner - fresh as a daisy; the floor, walls and windows polished to a shine that would hopefully be beyond even the Captain's exacting standards. After that, Mike had grudgingly relocated the telly to underneath the large windows and together they'd brought in the nicer furniture to put against the opposite wall.

By the time they'd finished, they'd only had about forty minutes left but they'd both agreed that the atmosphere was still too stuffy for any sort of gathering. This had resulted in a rush around all floors of the house to grab their nicer lamps, and less moth-eaten lampshades, to distribute for 'mood-lighting' in the corners.

Unlike the rest of the UK, they hadn't just happened to have convenient bunting lying around, so Alison had quickly decided to sacrifice some of their older clothes into a shoddy string of misshapen red, white and blue triangles. It didn't look too bad on the high walls and it's the thought that counts anyway, right?

Nodding to reassure herself she turns back to the front door, wondering where the ghosts have got to, only to jump a mile high when she comes face to face with Robin,

"Boo!" he shouts.

Alison gasps, clutching her hand to her chest, "Are you freaking kidding me?" 

"Huhh Huhh" comes his cracking laughter, "Just joke"

She shakes her head, "Well don't."

"Sorry," He grins, not looking particularly apologetic, as the rest of the spirits come streaming in the room after him. They all seem to falter a little at the decor, spreading out to look around the whole room and peer at the bunting on the walls.

Kitty is the first to comment, stopping in front of the tv, "I like it!" she squeals.

"Hmm, yes, it's very... dedicated," is Fanny's contribution, which Alison supposes is likely the highest compliment she's going to receive from that quarter. 

"Okay then everyone choose a seat-" she stops and cranes her neck, "Hold on did any of you actually get the Captain?"

They all look around guiltily but she's right, he's nowhere to be seen. There's an awkward moment as everyone comes to that same realisation, until Thomas steps forward, "Yes, I did," he says, tilting his head slightly.

Alison stares, "Well then where is he?" She can't believe they're attempting to hold a party someone they haven't even invited.

"It's six forty-five, he's doing his rounds of course,"

She checks her watch, it is indeed quarter to seven and that's yet another thing she'd forgotten, the Captain's twice-daily perimeter walks - trust her to try and schedule something for when he's unavailable. She shakes her head and squares her shoulders, "But you told him to come to the banqueting hall at seven?" 

Thomas nods, "Yes, I found him by the lake and told him we were watching something." He shrugs, "Captain didn't seem happy about it but he should come anyway."

Alison thanks Thomas then turns back to where Mike is fiddling with the tv to see if she can help. It's certainly something the Captain has done before, even though he likes to be front and central at a lot of meetings there's been a few times he's been clearly reluctant to attend a gathering, and yet turned up anyway with his chin up and polite small talk at the ready.

It's an aspect of his character she finds quite frustrating, not because she or the other ghosts don't want him there but because she doesn't like to see him force himself to come when he shouldn't have to. They've considered trying to talk to him about it but she knows she'd have more luck finding a dancing leprechaun holding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. 

"Alison? Alison!" Mike's waving a hand in front of her face.

She blinks, "Right, yeah, sorry, what?"

"Which channel am I supposed to be putting this on?" he asks

Alison gets her phone out of her pocket, "I was aiming for the lost clips thing so hold on," she pulls up the RadioTimes schedule, "Yeah, there's a segment called Lost Films and that should be on Channel 5 at seven,"

"Okay," he flicks through to the correct channel then mutes the telly, "Are they all here then?"

"We're just waiting on the Captain."

Mike nods, putting the remote to one side and taking three steps toward the nearest armchair before stopping in his tracks, "There's already someone there, isn't there?" he sighs.

"Yep," Alison replies, glancing at Julian's smug expression, "We can take the empty couch over by that fruit painting," 

"I hate that painting," he says, heading in that direction anyway.

Alison does as well but they both know it's more trouble than its worth to start trying to take any of the heavy gilded frames of the walls so she simply nods and follows him over, "Just five more minutes and then we can get this started."

\-----

The Captain steps through the front door to Button House sedately, his posture may be as perfect as ever but today he feels an impossible weight upon his shoulders, as he is reminded of all that he cannot outrun. 

Every year he dreads the approach of May because he knows that today is the day the other ghosts look at him harder than ever and he has never been comfortable under such scrutiny.

As a leader, he cannot deny that he likes to be looked at; people looking up to him, admiring him and respecting him has always been a source of great pride (on the rare occasions it has occurred). As a man, however, he is far more fond of privacy, the epitome of the British 'stiff upper lip' he cannot abide with people looking at him and seeing _through_. 

Which is why he is cautious as he heads towards the closed door of the banqueting hall, Thomas' cryptic message further clouding his already fogged thoughts. He'd known since the beginning of this lockdown that the customary celebration of today would not be occurring and so he had fortified his defences and planned to continue with his long-favoured practice of avoidance throughout the week, something that is now disrupted.

It is not that he doesn't grieve throughout the rest of the year, he is forever aware of the uniform he will carry through eternity, but it is always Victory in Europe day that has brought this to the forefront of his mind. It is always difficult, there's little a party can do to solve that but it reminded him of the life that had succeeded out of the horrors his country had endured. 

And as the years went by and he stayed, every party, every single reminder of this new hope allowed him to bury his unresolved feelings further, so some part of him can harden to the memories that come rushing up every time. Now this year, an unseen monster that cannot be fought is threatening his country once more, taking the one good part of this frightful day away from him.

He shakes himself and puts on a determinedly neutral expression, walking forward into the banqueting hall.

Oh. _Oh._

The Captain blinks in the rosy sunlight, cheeks warming as he takes in the novel sight of the room around him. He'd expected dusty floors and long-discarded furniture, walls bearing a hundred years of cobwebs and scattered clusters of forgotten pictures; what he sees now is its antithesis. 

In its heyday, Humphrey had said this banqueting hall had hosted King Henry VIII and it looked now as if it still could receive such royal visitors, though for a vastly different purpose.

The room is lit by an array of lamps he recognises from many of the bedrooms, the walls and windows polished enough to see his own reflection in and gone are so many of the unnecessary piles of strange objects, replaced instead by couches and chairs suitably arranged for some sort of viewing.

What truly moves him though is the large Union Jack draped across the windows, casting its colours onto the people below. He's seen the same flag flown above the house in years gone by and the bunting is clearly homemade but it is enough to remind him that there are still people around him who care, even if the house isn't as full as he would like. 

Julian's voice cut's through his thoughts, "What do you think then? Personally, I think it could be a bit more tasteful but..." he trails off and shakes his head, "Nevermind, that probably means its more to your liking." Ever tactful is Julian.

The Captain sweeps his gaze over his fellow ghosts, all settled comfortably on their separate couches, till he reaches Mike and Alison on the opposite side of the room watching him expectantly, "I - er -" he clamps his mouth shut. For possibly the first time in his long existence, he's been rendered truly speechless.

Alison seems to see this and take pity on him, "Pat said something about you enjoying the party," she smiles sheepishly, "and I know this isn't quite what you were hoping for but we thought we could maybe watch some of the celebrations on the telly and maybe have some music on." 

He still can't find anything to say and instead takes a few mechanical steps towards the chairs, hoping that if he can just sit down they'll all stop looking at him. This plan fails instantly and he halts, realising he doesn't know where to sit. 

"Here!" Robin grunts from the back of the room where he's settled next to Pat on a three-person couch.

The Captain nods and moves quickly to sit on the scoutmaster's other side, glad they'd saved him a seat where he can keep his back to the wall. He's not exactly sure what they're about to watch and since it's unlikely to be the same as his usual tank programme, it'll be best if he can make a quick exit. 

"Okay!" Alison announces, hurrying over to grab the remote Mike had left and unmuting the telly, "Looks like it's starting so if we can all just be quiet for a bit that'd be great." 

The adverts continue for another few seconds, in which they're treated to yet another governmental warning about staying inside, before the screen goes dark and dramatic music booms out suddenly, causing Mary to jump off her chair.

Alison turns the volume down hurriedly, "Sorry!" she says sitting back down, "Sorry, forgot to mention Mike had hooked the speakers up, we should be good now."

The words 'The Lost Films', scroll across the screen and the Captain takes a deep breath as a female voice begins explaining the concept behind amateur filming in the 1940s. It's been a long while since he's been faced with such a sharp reminder of the small, human moments behind each and every one of the people who'd been alive in his time and there's a brief twinge in his gut at the thought.

Five minutes later and he realises that's exactly what this entire hour is going to be, a dedication to as many of those unseen lives as possible on the day they won the war. It's up close, very, very personal and suddenly, he's not sure if he's going to be able to sit through this. 

Just as he's considering the cowardice of everyone seeing him walk away right now, Julian shifts to face him from his armchair to their left, "Hey Captain," he grins, "You don't think there are going to be any clips of people you know on here do you?" he asks.

Coming from anyone else this may have seemed a genuine question but the Captain _knows_ Julian is trying to stir the pot. This is proven when Alison turns in her seat, looking excited at the prospect, and he cringes, ready to phase through the wall to escape if necessary.

However, before anyone can do or say anything, Robin lets out a loose bellow, "AAAARRRGGGHH!" Alison clamps her jaw shut immediately and even Julian stops waving his pontificating hands to stare at the caveman, "What?" he grunts, "Watch."

It's a nice gesture but the damage has already been done, and the Captain, flashing hot and cold, knows he can't stay in this room any longer. He stiffens his creaking back and shuffles to the edge of the couch, intent on leaving as fast as possible when he's stopped by a gentle nudge to his side.

He doesn't want to know what look must be on his face right now but he turns to his right anyway.

It's Pat, talking softly to him as Robin nods encouragingly further along, "Just ignore Julian," he says, "How about you stay here a bit longer next to us to see if you want to watch it, and as soon as you tell me you want to go, I'll be right there with you?"

The Captain shakes his head but doesn't get up, afraid of what will happen if he opens his mouth, Pat peers up at him for a second, eyes quizzical behind his thick glasses before his expression softens and slowly, carefully he moves his left hand along the couch until it is covering the back of the Captain's right.

Pat's hand is warm, rougher than he'd expected and maintaining just the slightest pressure, it's a barely-there sensation but it's enough to anchor him to the couch. He swallows, gripping his swagger stick tighter in his left hand as he turns his other until their palms are brushing.

No more words are said between them but he stays, turning his head back to the flickering images of a world that no longer exists, determined to see them through.

\-----

They watch the rest of the programme in silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle and the Captain is grateful; he's grateful for the thought the others put into this evening, he's grateful for Pat by his side and he's grateful to see these glimpses of normal people recovering from a war he spent his life fighting.

He's grateful, but it's such a bitter reminder and after an hour of forcing himself to focus on the shadows fluttering across the screen he's gripping his swagger stick so tightly he's sure it would break if it were corporeal.

The credits roll and Alison mutes the tv, waving a hand apologetically as she dabs her eyes with a tissue, many of the ghosts doing their best to pretend they aren't similarly affected. Their emotions are so thick in the air the Captain would likely be able to feel them if he weren't so lost in his own, as even Julian gazes out the high windows with a far off expression and clenched jaw. 

He startles when Pat pulls his hand away, having almost forgotten their fingers were still intertwined.

"Sorry," Pat murmurs, pulling up the corners of his necker to wipe his eyes, "I'm sorry, ignore me, but that's the year I was born you know?"

The Captain hadn't known that actually but now that he thinks about it, it does add up.

"Anyway, my dad was invalided home earlier than that," he coughs, " but I just kept looking at all those people and thinking of what my family could've been if that day hadn't happened and I know it's silly" he glances to the Captain, "considering-" he cuts himself off, blushing.

"No, no its quite all right," The Captain gets up, unable to sit still any longer, and begins pacing in the small gap between their couch and the one currently occupied by Mary and Kitty. He tries to bring himself to reassure Pat further but finds he is once more unable to look any of the others in the eye; if they thought about it perhaps they wouldn't have been so quick to celebrate VE day with him.

"So," he turns to Alison and tries to ignore the odd look Robin is giving him while the caveman claps his hand on Pat's shoulder, "What - er" he rarely stutters and now they're all watching, "What happens next?"

To her credit Alison takes his abrupt question in her stride, "It's the People's Celebration on the BBC next," she picks up the remote to change the channel, "So that's the proper party bit with lots of singing, should hopefully lighten the mood a bit?"

Surprisingly it's Julian who speaks up, "We don't have to watch it though, do we?" he says, eyeing the Captain shrewdly, "There's gotta be something else you can put on - more of that 'Friends' thing."

The films must have struck some sort of chord for Julian to have so completely changed his stance, and the Captain can see Alison looks equally as perplexed as he feels as she opens her mouth but he cuts her off before she gets the chance to say anything, "I don't think that's necessary," he turns sharply and resumes his pacing, "Just let me have a minute!"

Alison nods and averts her gaze to whisper to Mike instead but the Captain can feel his fellow ghosts still looking at him and it's almost too much, he clenches his hands and wills himself to ignore them. He does think some songs will have a better effect on him so he's willing to stay and ride it out as long as no-one rocks the boat. 

He regrets that thought immediately as Fanny opens her mouth, "You may feel better if you talk about it," she nobly ignores the panicked glare he shoots her, "Look, I know when I told you George's sordid little secret it didn't stop me screaming but it certainly did help a little in other ways." She says, folding her hands in her lap. 

"She's right you know," It's Pat again, eyes still damp, "I've said it before and I'll say it again, talking helps."

The Captain's head is spinning and he doesn't know how to cope with this attack from all sides, he can feel the cracks in his composure spreading across his entire being. His steps falter and the waves threaten to pull him under, he's gone over a century without succumbing to this weakness and he'd always been determined to carry it with him for eternity. 

Fittingly it is Alison who finally pushes him out the ship entirely, "You don't need to," he hates how gentle her voice has become, "We can just play the rest of it or like Julian said, something else entirely. We don't have to talk about VE Day."

"We do!" The Captain shouts, twisting to face the windows that are still proudly displaying the Union Jack, "We do," he echoes, resigned, "We do have to talk about the Victory in Europe because they won!"

"And you didn't want them to?" Alison asks disbelievingly as realisation starts to show on some of the ghosts faces.

He holds himself very still, refusing to look away from the flag, "Do not," he grinds out, "Dare accuse me of such treason." He brings his swagger stick hard against his palm, "Of course I wanted us to win, the issue is that _I wasn't there_."

Alison shivers, clutching Mike's arm, as she begins to realise what she's unleashed.

The Captain closes his eyes, unable to resist the pull of memory, "I died in January," his voice wavers, "Why do you think I'm here, stuck in some stupid old country house in the middle of nowhere?" They know he's not looking for an answer.

"I was born at the turn of the century," he says, "I joined the army at seventeen, like so many of the boys from school and I was out there in the trenches with children dying around me." He's practically hissing, "And then we won and I had nothing so I thought, I thought I was born to serve this country,"

"After that, I stayed in the army, I became a career military man and I dedicated my entire life to the bettering of our men, our weapons and our strategies in case something that godawful ever happened again and what do you know," he laughs, "it did!" 

He doesn't notice the silent tears streaming down his face until someone presses something into his hand, "Thank you" he coughs out, wiping his face before he realises its Thomas' silk tie, "Apologies," he clears his throat once more and hardens his tone,

"So I went back out there and it was closer to home and fiercer and more people were dying and I knew this was it; I was born to serve my country but I was made to die in the fight for it."

"I was too old for a Captain, a dead-end, so they sent me out there time and time again, and," he sucks in a breath, "time and time again I survived. We got better, our tanks improved, D-day happened and finally, Jerry was running scared and it looked like we were winning!"

He breathes out, "I was going back over one last time and," he gestures to the room around him, " _this_ was a simple stopover, a camp where companies switched over and I was to be here a few days until," he finally turns back to face the others, "I woke up one morning like this - I died in my _sleep_!"

"My entire life I gave to this war and I couldn't see it through," he points his swagger stick to his chest, "That utter nonsense you hear about spirits being tied to the mortal plane with unfinished business? All I knew was this uniform and I up and kicked the sodding bucket before we'd even won, how in the bloody hell was I just supposed to let that go?!"

"Seventy-five years! Seventy-five years and I'm still as eager to parade around this stupid house, to keep calm, carry on and pretend my war is still there because I left without a fight. And, and, you show those people all dancing and singing and cheering - and I never thought I'd be there anyway, but I _should've_ been.

He's panting now from the exertion of spilling everything at once and he finally gives up and buries his head in his hands, crying properly in a way he hasn't done since he was a very young lad with grazed palms and skinned knees and his Mum was there to make everything better. 

A hollow, silent, second and then there's a hand on his back rubbing soothingly as someone guides him to an empty armchair. "I don't suppose you want to go now then?" Pat chuckles softly in his ear, "Sorry, bad time for a joke but you've sort of got everyone sobbing and we don't know what to do. You just stay here for a bit and we'll wait till everyone calms down and then put the music on. You can stay or leave whenever."

The Captain nods, incapable of doing anything else with his head pounding so. He thinks he can hear Alison talking from somewhere far away but he has to strain to make it out, "- can someone just give him a hug please?" she's saying, "I just really want to but I can't."

Pat's moving somewhere in front of him in answer, "Would it be alright if I gave you a hug?" he asks, "You can definitely say -"

"Yes." The Captain mutters, attempting to slow his heaving breaths but still unwilling to lift his head, and gently, ever so gently, Pat puts his arms around the starched shoulders of the Captain's uniform. It's certainly an awkward angle for a hug, with one of them standing up and the other sat down but neither truly minds and, gradually, the Captain allows himself to calm down.

Five minutes must pass before Pat retreats, though it feels like only a few seconds, and then the Captain pulls himself together and is as back to business as he possibly can be, "Right" he says shaking his head and studiously ignoring his sore eyes.

He looks up to meet Alison's searching gaze, "Let's all just pretend that didn't happen, - Ah!" he raises his hand to cut off the collective interruptions, "Pretend it didn't happen for a few hours and go back to watching the show." 

He's not trying to avoid the many difficult conversations he knows are going to arise from this (well, maybe only a little), he just doesn't want to ruin the rest of the day for everyone else, "This is meant to be a celebration of our victory and I will enjoy it if I bloody well want to." He declares.

"Okay," Alison says, "Okay if that's what you want we'll just forget about it a bit and have a sing-song - wow I cannot believe I said sing-song." She trails off, muttering about her declining vocabulary since the lockdown.

The Captain nods, sitting back in his chair and shooting Pat a quick, unsteady smile, "Thank you, just.... thank you."

\-----

The rest of the day was not a perfect ending but it'll forever stand as a shining memory for the Captain once everyone had calmed down.

They had put the telly back on and for a few hours they'd laughed and sung to We'll Meet Again and even danced in the fading light of the setting sun, and throughout it all he'd looked at the people around him, from the ghosts he'd been stuck with for decades to their newest dare-he-say friends in Alison and Mike, and he'd felt the most at peace he'd been since the day he died.

He's also trying to order around the others less now, to distance himself from the uniform he's stuck in and it doesn't always work. Sometimes he still oversteps, sometimes there are still fights and tense moments between at least some of the ghosts, namely Julian, but they don't hold the same disdain for him that they used to. 

He knows the way they were before was partly his own fault in never allowing them to see beneath the charade of an angry Captain, but it is still nice to have the reassurance that that is not all he is. 

Everything isn't fixed in an instant- like Fanny and her screaming he is still stuck with a century's worth of memories he cannot simply undo in one moment, but every now and then his steps feel a little lighter and his smiles come a little easier and that's enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Ik this is a wee bit late for a VE day fic but it was supposed to be sooooo much shorter .  
> Was this all an elaborate set up to give the Captain a breakdown? haha... ha........  
> I am so sorry I don't know what this turned into omg so sorry.


End file.
